Mark was my husband.
We had been married for twenty-seven years.
I had defended him countless times.
I had trusted him with everything.
So I said nothing.
Then Mr. Harrison asked me a question that I couldn’t forget.
“Linda, does Mark ever bring work documents home?”
“Sometimes.”
“Has he ever asked you to sign anything?”
I frowned.
“Once or twice.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. Insurance paperwork. Company-related things.”
Mr. Harrison stared at me.
“Did you sign them?”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to notice.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
I could see that.
From that day forward, I started paying attention.
Not because I wanted to spy on my husband.
Because I was afraid.
And then I discovered something that frightened me even more.
A few months earlier, Mark had asked me to sign several pages.
He had told me they were related to an old business account.
I hadn’t read every page.
I trusted him.
Now I wondered what I had actually signed.
That was when I made a decision.
I would find out.
I began keeping copies of anything Mark asked me to sign.
I checked our financial records.
